Breathe
by rr80sgirl
Summary: I have learned that you need to breathe. You can't live without breathing, therefore you can't experience living. It is hard to experience life, though, when you're in hiding from the head of a human trafficking ring. Of course, I didn't ask for this. Who would? I also didn't ask to be stuck with Agent Erik Deveraux in the middle of nowhere... Modern AU Erik/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: Hello, world of FanFiction! While I am not new to this site, I did not feel comfortable putting this higher rated story (or any others I may write) on my first account. This is something that I've been thinking on and working on for a while. I've finally managed to finish laying it out and hope to give you all some more soon. Let me know what you think!**

 **Chapter 1: I Should Have Walked**

 _Breathe... Do not forget to breathe._ Inhaling deeply, I walked up the few steps and onto stage. The sound of my footsteps were loud against the hollow, but otherwise sturdy, stage. I lifted the microphone clutched tightly in my hand to my face and looked up to the crowd in front of me. "How are you all doing tonight?" I asked, getting only a few responses. People were still filing in, taking seats around the room. I could feel my hands shaking and I felt like hiding behind one of the amps at either side of the stage. _Do not forget to breathe._ Taking another deep breath, I continued. "Well, we have a very special treat for you all. Here tonight, we have a local band that got a record label. This is their last night in town so let's give Illusions of Wisteria a round of applause."

Placing the microphone on its stand, I retreated as the group came up onto stage. The sound of applause followed me as I stepped off the stage, a wave of relief washing over me. "Hey, rookie!" Looking up, I smiled at Joe, the manager of the coffeehouse I worked in. The thirty-six year old man clapped me on the shoulder and shook it gently. "You did it!"

"I know." I responded, my voice dulled by the rock song playing on stage. How I had managed to not faint while out there, I did not know. After much convincing, and an offer for a raise, Joe talked me into introducing bands that performed here. He originally wanted me to perform, after hearing me sing to the radio while I worked at the counter. Embarrassed just by the thought of someone listening, I refused to sing and offered to do anything else. Therefore, I was stuck introducing the groups that performed every Saturday night. "Can I go back to the counter now?"

"Don't forget to breathe, Noelle." Joe laughed. It was something that he told me to calm my nerves when going on stage, but it was also his way of telling people to relax. I heard it often. I had worked for him since I started college here in New York three years ago. It made me a little extra money when I was not working at the school's library. Not to mention the employee discount on coffee when I was pulling a late night, last minute, study binge. Joe was the best employer I had the pleasure of knowing. I found it hard to think of him as my boss because we were so comfortable with one another. Our relationship was much closer than that of anyone else that worked for him. He was like family, although I had family back in Kentucky. "You know what, kid?"

"What?" I asked, picking up my apron off the back of a chair.

"You can have the rest of the night off. You've earned it." Joe answered, lifting my apron from my hands. I pouted, knowing that if I went home there would only be homework to do. "Don't give me that look. I know you probably have homework that needs done. Take a pastry and some coffee, then go home and get more important stuff done."

"Alright." I grumbled. Joe was the only reason the homework I procrastinated finishing was done. He was a lifesaver in that sense, but I still would rather work than touch a single textbook. "But I will be here early on Tuesday, regardless of what you tell me to do."

"Of course." Joe chuckled. "I wouldn't expect anything less. Have a good night, Noelle."

"You too, Joe." With that said, I went to the backroom where my belongings were and gathered them. After making sure I had not left a big mess at the barista bar, I took a raspberry vanilla muffin and left for home. I lived in an apartment by myself a few blocks away from New York University, where I went to school. The coffee shop was a bit further from both the school and my apartment, so I tried to catch a taxi when I could. Otherwise, I would have to walk.

As I stepped out into the late spring evening, I made my way to the curb to wave down a taxi. People passed by me on the sidewalk, some entering the coffee shop while others continued on their way to another destination. New York City was much more crowded than what I had been used to when I came here three years ago. Born and raised in Burkesville, Kentucky, I was definitely not ready for the sheer amount of people that crowded the Big Apple. I knew that I'd have to deal with the grand number of people, but nothing could have prepared me to do so. My first day in the city, I could not bring myself to go out exploring on my own. It wasn't until I absolutely had to leave my apartment that I ventured into the crowded streets of New York.

Looking back on it, I did not know why I felt threatened by being around so many people at once. It could have been that I was my first time living on my own and I did not have anyone I could depend on nearby. I remember calling home every night just to hear my family and let them know that I was okay. My family was made up of my older brother, my mother, and myself. Dad had passed away from a rare lung disease he had contracted during his time as a doctor in Africa. It happened my sophomore year of high school and I was still not fully over losing him. He never got to talk to me over the phone when I called home, but just hearing mom's and Sam's voice brought back the memories when we were all together. They were my rock even though they were a few states away.

"You gettin' in or what, sweet'art?" Snapped out of my thoughts by the loud taxi driver that I had waved down, I opened the door and climbed in. I slid across the uncomfortable back seat and put on my seat belt. I looked up at the driver, a scrawny man that was probably in his early forties. His face was unshaven, giving him that scruffy appearance. It also didn't help that his hair was long, stringy, and looked to not have been washed in a while. His eyes seemed unable to stay in one place, as if he were scanning around for something. Eventually his gaze stopped on me and he grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth. "Where to?"

"Washington Square Apartments." I answered, trying my best not to grimace. The driver was nothing less than unpleasant, that much was obvious. _At least the taxi doesn't smell... too bad. In addition, there is a window between you and him._ I did not have the patience to wait for another taxi and had already climbed into this one. So I'd put up with the driver until I arrived back home.

"Ya got it, missy." he said, pulling away from the curb. Looking out the window, I watched the businesses and people pass by hoping the ride would be quick. Traffic was not too bad this time of night, but you could never tell. My stomach rumbled and I remembered the muffin I had brought with me. Reaching into the small paper bag inside my shoulder bag, I tore off a piece of the muffin and popped it into my mouth. It was delicious and I would have groaned at how tasty it was if I were by myself. I wasn't alone though, and that much was obvious when the driver spoke up. "You a student at NYU?"

I was unsure whether to answer truthfully. First of all, I did not know this man nor what he was capable of. Second of all, it wasn't really any of his business whether I was a student or not. There was no telling what he'd do with the answer I gave him. While I was fighting over whether to tell him, there was a screeching of tires outside the car. Thinking nothing of it, I opened my mouth having finally decided to answer. "Yes, I am a..."

"Shit!" The driver suddenly stepped on the gas, accelerating us through a red light. I let out a short scream as we came close to being hit by the other vehicles in the intersection. Looking in the rear-view mirror, the driver had a panicked look on his face. I turned to see what had him running a red light, but he stopped me with a shout. "Don't! Get down!"

Before I knew what was happening, the back window shattered and I screamed. _Were we just shot at?!_ Fear raced through me at the thought of being shot at. I did not want to die like this, in the back of a taxi. The driver turned sharply down a side street, crashing through anything in his way. Staying down, I demanded to know what was going on from the driver. "Excuse me!? What just happened? Where are you taking me?"

"Miss, I can't..." There was another gunshot and it passed through what was left of the back window and cracked the back window on the passenger side. We made it to the end of the side street and he made a right turn, stepping on the gas. "Shit, shit, shit..."

"Hello?!" I shouted. "Answer me or let me out before I get shot! Now!"

"Miss, I'm sorry for draggin' ya into this, but I can't stop." he barked. Another gunshot rang out, but it missed us entirely. I hoped it hadn't hit someone who was just walking along, minding their own business. The driver must have had a cell phone because one, that was not my own, started ringing. Swearing again, he reached for his phone and answered it. "For God's sake, Fletch! I told ya's I had the money! Call your boys off!"

I did not have a clue what was going on, nor what this Fletch guy was saying on the other line. This was like something out of a movie, but never had I imagined being caught up in an event like this. Tears welled up in my eyes, thinking of all the ways that this crazy car chase could end. Most of them ended with me being the dispensable witness and I did not dare imagine what happened after that. The taxi swerved and blasted through another red light. "I'll bring it, Fletch." He paused as Fletch talked. Glancing back, whether at me or the people shooting at us, he blanched. "I've got it with me right now, yeah. I can be there real quick if ya get these guys to stop firing." Another pause. "Got it. Be there in a jiff." With that, the driver hung up and growled in annoyance. He hit his hand against the driving wheel and swore under his breath.

Slowing the car down, he took a left turn and I guessed he had forgotten I was still there, so I spoke up. "Hey buddy, I am still here. I want to go home."

"I'll get ya' home, I promise." he said. "I need to take care of this first. You won't even have to pay me, alright?"

"Um, no." I disagreed. "I've just been shot at and came close to getting in a car crash. There is no way in Hell that I am going wherever it is you're going. Take me home or I'll... or I'll call the cops!" I reached into my back and pulled out my cell phone.

"That would not be wise." he warned. "You don't know whose guys are tailing us right now. If the cops show up, we're as good as dead, girly."

"Who's following us?" I asked.

"Fletcher 'The Reaper' Morrison's boys. Ya' ever heard of em'?" the driver questioned. I shook my head 'no'. "That's because anyone who hears the name never lives to tell another soul." _I should have walked home..._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: Thanks to Kaylyn Palmeter for being the first to review, favorite, and follow this story. So here is another chapter, just for you!**

 **Chapter 2: Jonathan Burn**

Jonathan Burn had been a taxi driver for most of his life. He was an unhealthy man with no care for his self, but he cared for others. His job allowed him a glance into the lives of others and he was able to help get them to where they needed to be. While he enjoyed his job and excelled at it, his funds were still stretched thin. When he was nearly kicked out of his grandparents' house for being late with rent, he decided to pick up another job.

The man searched with vigor, applying to every position he could. He believed it wouldn't be long before he had a job interview, so he waited. Weeks passed and then months. There had been no phone calls or emails about the positions he had applied for. Jonathan was discouraged and did not even bother to call and ask to speak to the managers about his applications. You see, Jonathan was a big pushover. The smallest of problems could ruin his day and he would do nothing to get back up and keep going.

It wasn't until late one evening in September that he received a phone call. Three months had passed since he had stopped applying for new jobs. His rent was due in only a week and there was no way he would be able to pay for it. He had been lying awake in his bed, thinking of how he was going to solve his financial issue, when his phone rang. The number it showed was not familiar, but he picked it up and answered anyway.

The man on the other line greeted him and asked if it was the right number he had. Jonathan confirmed that it was his phone and that it was himself talking. Proceeding, the man introduced himself as Fletcher Morrison. Fletcher was the owner of a moving business, though it was only a cover for the disreputable business he conducted otherwise. Jonathan was clueless to this and asked why he had been contacted when he had applied months ago. Fletcher answered, saying that their truck driver was in an accident and he would not be able to return. He was in need of a new truck driver and was willing to hire Jonathan without an interview.

Jonathan accepted eagerly and asked when he could start. Fletcher told him the next day and where he could find the building. After thanking Fletcher repeatedly, they said goodbye and hung up. Jonathan was relieved and knew that his money problems were going to be over. He would never have to fear being kicked out onto the streets again. If he wanted to, Jonathan thought of getting a new vehicle once he had saved up enough money. Things were looking up, or so Jonathan thought, and he fell asleep believing that they were.

He arrived early the next morning to the building that housed Morrison Movers. The building looked as if it had been built the day before. All the windows were spotless and reflected the sky and the other buildings around the one. Neatly kept shrubs bordered the foundation and there was a gleaming fountain on the pavement outside the front. Jonathan strode up to the doors and entered the unusually clean building.

A frail looking woman was the receptionist that welcomed Jonathan. She was almost too frail looking to not draw attention, but Jonathan was not very bright. He did not think anything of it and proceeded to tell her that he was the new truck driver Fletcher hired. The receptionist stood, nearly collapsing as she stood. She laughed nervously, commenting on how clumsy she was. Once she had regained her footing, she led Jonathan to Fletcher's office. Before entering, she knocked and waited until someone called out for her to enter.

Fletcher Morrison's office was dimly lit with no windows. His desk was made of dark wood and had very little sitting on it. Cabinets lined the back wall, their contents unknown to everyone except Fletcher himself. Two cozy red chairs sat in front of the desk and Fletcher Morrison sat in a high-backed chair of the same color. The receptionist introduced Jonathan and was quick to leave the room. Motioning for Jonathan to sit, Fletcher rose from his chair and retrieved a water bottle from a mini-fridge underneath his desk.

Jonathan sat down and took the water that Fletcher offered him. Fletcher was taller than Jonathan by about a foot, measuring at about 6' 8'' tall. He had short black hair and devious green eyes. A gnarly scar peeked out from behind the collar of his shirt. When the man smiled, any normal person would feel a chill run down their spine. There was something insidious about the way he smiled

"Johnny, I'm glad you could make it." Fletcher said, then took a sip of his own water. His Adam's apple bobbed as the water slid down his throat, stretching the scar for a second before it returned to its normal state. "We have a big move tonight. I asked if you could be here early so you could get accustomed to the building and your truck. Are there any questions you have?"

"Not that I can think of at the moment, sir." Jonathan replied, wondering what the scar on his new boss's neck was from. He wasn't stupid and refrained from asking.

"Good." Fletcher opened one of the drawers in his desk and reached inside. When he withdrew his hand, he held a stack of money. Jonathan's eyes widened, realizing that the stack was entirely twenty-dollar bills. With money like that, he could purchase his own apartment. Fletcher lifted an eyebrow mischievously, smirking at his new employee. "Consider this your first pay check, Johnny."

"Really?!" Jonathan exclaimed, holding out his hand. Fletcher immediately pulled the stack of money away.

"You will be paid as soon as the move is completed, Johnny boy." Fletcher tutted. He put the stack of money on the desk in front of him, staring at Johnathan. "Now, there is something important I must inform you of before my _receptionist_ shows you around. We are not your normal movers. Of course we do move peoples shit to their new homes, but that is not where the money is, you see. You're going to help me move my more precious cargo, Jonathan."

"What do ya mean, sir?" Jonathan asked, starting to feel that something was off. His innocent question caused Fletcher to chuckle, his scar coming in and out of view again.

Fletcher stood and walked around to the other side of his desk. He looked down at Jonathan, who was looking up at him waiting for an answer. "Follow me, Johnny. I'll show you what I mean." Jonathan was unsure whether he should follow the man or not. There was something curious about the man, but he hadn't the faintest idea. If he had known what he was to face, the man would have declined the position right there and then. Jonathan followed mindlessly, a feeling many people have described Fletcher Morrison to evoke.

They exited his office and headed towards the back of the building. The other workers they passed did not look like any movers Jonathan had ever seen before. The only attribute they had going for them was their size: large. These men were buff and towered over the stick-like taxi driver. When they looked at Jonathan, he knew that if they ever met in an alley, he'd turn and walk the other way. Why would someone want to higher these thuggish looking men? Well, Jonathan was about to find out. Fletcher paused in front of a set of doors that was labelled 'Warehouse'. "Here we are, Johnny. Let's go on in." With that, Fletcher pushed the doors open and allowed Jonathan to enter first.

Cages and crates filled the room, as well as the sound of people speaking quietly. The people that were talking were the ones inside of those cages and crates. Women, men, and children were locked up, chained up, inside the hundreds of cages and crates. The thuggish looking men Jonathan had seen earlier came and went, walking by each of the prisoners, monitoring them. Sobs from women and children echoed around the room, sometimes being replaced with screams of pain. Just the sight of so many people in such a condition made Jonathan want to gag. This was the cargo Fletcher was talking about. These people were what he was going to be moving. Jonathan had been hired to take part in human trafficking.

"I... I..." Jonathan stuttered, turning away from the rest of the room to face Fletcher. He wanted to say he couldn't do it. That he had another opportunity somewhere else, but Fletcher knew exactly what he was going to say and cut him off.

"Johnny boy, don't go backing out on me now." Fletcher warned. Jonathan was suddenly aware of the gun in Fletcher's hand. The taxi driver took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. "If you say no now, there will be two things that can happen."

Swallowing nervously, Jonathan stared at the gun in Fletcher's hand. "Wh-wh-what will hap-happen?"

"Well, I could shoot you." Jonathan hit the ground as Fletcher lifted the gun to aim at him.

"Don't shoot me! Please!" Jonathan begged, not caring to look whether Fletcher would or not. Fletcher cackled like a mad man and stopped suddenly, firing the pistol he held. Jonathan braced himself for the bullet, but the bullet never came. The sound of someone else's body thumping to the ground made it obvious to Jonathan that Fletcher had shot someone else.

"Get up, Jonathan." Fletcher barked. Not wanting to meet the same fate as whomever Fletcher had shot, he got to his feet. Fletcher reached out and grabbed a handful of Jonathan's hair, forcing him to turn around. Jonathan caught sight of the prisoner Fletcher had shot and gagged. It was a man and the bullet happened to hit him in the head. The sight was nothing less than horrifying and Jonathan started to gag. "You can take his place or you can join him, Johnny boy. What's it going to be?"

Through his gagging, Jonathan managed to speak. "I'll do it."

"Excellent." Fletcher purred, letting Jonathan go as he vomited onto the concrete floor. "You'll remain here until tonight when you'll drive them to the docks. One of my men will be your navigator and more will meet you at the docks. Succeed and you'll get your money. Fail and I will kill you, plain and simple. Also, don't go calling the authorities. Even they can't protect you once you've gotten on my bad side. You know why that is, Johnny boy?"

Jonathan finished vomiting, but couldn't bring himself to face Fletcher eye to eye. "Why?"

"Because once you hear the name Fletcher 'The Reaper' Morrison, you'll never live to tell another soul." With that, Fletcher left Jonathan there in the warehouse full of people fallen victim to human trafficking. Jonathan stood up straight, wiping the vomit from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He knew there was no way out of this predicament if he did not want to end up dead. So he went along with it. He went along with all of Fletcher's illegal plans and, while he was payed handsomely, it did nothing to settle his conscious. For five long years, he smuggled people that Fletcher's men had abducted to the New York docks and even down to New Jersey. Wherever Fletcher asked him to go, Jonathan went.

You would think Jonathan would save up what money he did not spend in case he needed it. Jonathan did nothing of the sort, as he started gambling with some of Fletcher's men. Hundreds of dollars and eventually thousands he lost in games of cards that he did not know were stacked. It wasn't until his grandmother fell very ill that he wished he would not have thrown his money away just for the chance to win more. He tried his best to pitch in money for the medical bills that his grandfather was struggling to pay. When they really started to struggle, Jonathan went to the only person he knew had the money to help.

Fletcher reluctantly lent him a large sum of money, which he would have to pay back on his own. His paychecks were going to be cut back by half until it was paid off. Jonathan couldn't have known the loss that Fletcher would face and take out on him. The bank account that Fletcher had withdrawn the money from was being watched by authorities. When they saw the transaction on their monitors, they decided to make their move. Fletcher went by many aliases, had multiple warehouses in the city, and even scattered across New York. Luckily, for Fletcher, the warehouse the authorities raided was one located in Brooklyn. It was empty, for the time being, and they found nothing except a handful of his men and a stash of money.

While he may have escaped for now, he knew that they would not stop looking. If he hadn't have withdrawn the money he lent to Jonathan, he wouldn't have lost one of his assets. Furious for an action he made consciously, he called Jonathan in. Well, more like had his men drag him in after cornering him in the restroom. Fletcher dismissed his lackies and demanded that Jonathan repay him in full. Jonathan had very little money as it was and what was left of his borrowed money would not even put a dent in what he owed. He didn't argue with Fletcher and asked for some time to get the money. Fletcher was not impressed in the least bit, but gave Jonathan a month.

A month had passed and Jonathan found himself going to face his doom. He did not have the money as he had told Fletcher over the phone. All the money he had was the couple of fares from the beginning of his shift. _And maybe whatever this girl has on her._ Yes, he had picked up a customer and was now forced to bring her along. She had fallen quiet after he told her that there was no way she'd be going back home. The taxi doors would not open until she paid him and he unlocked them for her. As he pulled up in front of the seemingly nice building he had entered for the first time five years ago, he knew that he was going to die. He also knew that it was likely the girl would be taken and shipped off God knows where. Either that or she'd join him on the concrete floor of he warehouse, dead as the first man the had seen Fletcher kill.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: Just a little WARNING: There is a little bit of rapeyness (Is that even a word?) in this chapter. This is rated M, so consider yourself warned. It is not much, but some people may not want to read it if it makes them uncomfortable. I will mark the start of it and there will be a Author's Note when it ends, for those who don't want to read. Thank you and enjoy the chapter.**

 **Chapter 3: A Cup of Coffee**

We had arrived at the building for Morrison Movers. I had not a clue where we were in the city, but I hoped this taxi driver would let me out and I could make a break for it. Even if I were in an unfamiliar part of the city, I could find someone to help me find my way. It was a nice Saturday night and I am sure there were plenty of decent people out there to help me. The taxi driver pulled up to the curb in front of the building and turned the vehicle off. He undid his seatbelt and then turned around to face me. "Ya got any money on ya?"

"Even if I do, I would not give it to you." I spat. Mr. Taxi Driver shook his head and reached for the cash box that he kept the fares in.

"The more money I give Fletch, the more likely he is not to kill the two of us." The taxi driver opened the cash box and started counting. When he finished, he swore and slammed the box shut. "When he sees how much I don't have, he's going to take everything you've got too. So ya better hand over the cash, sweet'art."

"You said you had the money." I shot back.

"I _said_ I did so I wouldn't get ran off the road by those oafs behind us or shot." Jonathan informed me. "I lied sweet'art. Plain and simple."

A large, burly man knocked on the driver's window and the taxi driver turned to face him. He motioned for the man outside to move and then opened the door. "Reed, I was just making sure all of Morrison's money was there. Take me to him."

I squeaked as another man peered into the backseat, his face lighting up at the sight of me. "Look at the chick he brought with him." the thuggish brute chuckled to his partner. "This a delivery for the boss, Jonathan? Another part of his payment?"

"Of course not. She's... she's my cousin. I was giving her a lift from the airport. She's staying with me." the taxi driver, who I no knew was named Jonathan, lied. Glancing back at me nervously for a moment, he continued. "She's got no idea what is going on. Just leave her be."

"Johnny, who are these guys?" I exclaimed, though I felt meek. It wasn't like me to lie or, in this case, act. "Why aren't you taking me home? What is going on?"

"Give me a moment, cuz." Jonathan lied again. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Fletch isn't going to like this, Johnny." the first man, Reed, said. "You know it's one of his rules not to bring anyone here."

"I know..." Jonathan started.

"Yeah!" the second pitched in. "We'd better take her too." He tried opening the door, finding it was locked. Looking to Jonathan, he growled. Jonathan looked back at me, regret in his eyes, and unlocked the door. The second man opened the door and motioned for me to get out. When I shook my head no, he grumbled and reached in to grab at me. I pulled my legs up and then kicked at the man as hard as I could. _A successful hit!_ The man cried out as I kicked him in his lower arm. "Reed, go around to the other side. She's a fighter."

"Got it, Lloyd." Reed started to move to go around the car and I realized that the door was unlocked. Grabbing my bag, I flung the door open and climbed out. I started to run, but someone caught my arm and yanked me back. Whoever it was, twisted my arm behind my back, hard. I felt it pop out of the socket and I screamed, only to have a hand put over my mouth. Lloyd, Reed, and Jonathan joined me and whoever had stopped me on the other side of the car. Tears poured down my cheeks and I sobbed into this stranger's hand.

"Jonathan, who is this..." A sultry voice belonging to a man spoke from behind me. He leaned forward and he breathed deeply with his nose just behind my ear. I whimpered, praying that someone would walk by and call the cops. " _Barista?_ " the man purred. "You know I don't like unannounced visitors on the premises.

"Fletcher, she's my cousin. I was on my way home from picking her up at the airport." Jonathan stepped forward, clutching the cash box in his hands. I felt like screaming, knowing that this man would kill if he didn't get his money. I tried struggling, but it only caused my shoulder even more pain. "She's got no idea what is going on. If you could let her go..."

"Why don't we have her make us a cup of coffee inside?" Fletcher suggested. Pulling me back against him, he wrapped an arm around my waist. His arms drummed against my belly and I felt myself getting sick. "Besides, she is such a pleasant thing to look at."

"She's married." Jonathan lied again. Fletcher chuckled darkly and lifted my left arm.

"Where's your ring, darling?" Fletcher asked, his voice sickly sweet. He dropped my arm and pulled me tighter against him. He laughed and must have motioned for his men to grab Jonathan. They took the cash box from him and then restrained him. "Johnny, you've never been good at lying. She smells like a coffee bar, so she couldn't have gotten off her flight. I knew right then that you were lying to me. Bring him inside, boys."

I was forced to walk in front of Fletcher, my shoulder aching with every step. We entered the building and walked past an empty reception desk. Fletcher kicked open a door and we entered a dimly lit office that I assumed to be his own. His men followed us in with Jonathan and then shut the door. Fletcher pulled one of the chairs in front of the desk around to the other side next to his and forced me into it. I moved to get up, but he clucked his tongue and pushed me back down. "No, no, no, my little barista. You have to stay right there." He sat in the chair next to the one I was in and made himself comfortable. His left hand rested on my knee and I could feel the smugness rolling of him from such action. "Sit down, Jonathan."

"Yes, sir." Jonathan said, Fletcher's men letting of of him. Jonathan made his way over to the other chair and sat down.

"Atta' boy, Johnny. Now," Fletcher motioned to Reed, who was holding the cash box, to come over. Reed did so and placed the box down on the desk in front of him. "Let's see the money you brought me." Fletcher lifted the lid and started to count, flying through each bill and coin. When he finished, he frowned.

"Is... is something wrong?"

"There always is when it comes to you, Johnny." Fletcher said. "Now, where is the rest of my damn money?"

"I said that I'd pay you back. I keep my promises, Fletch..." Fletcher slammed his hand down on the desk, making Jonathan, as well as myself, jump.

"If you kept your promise, all of my money would be here!" Fletcher shouted. "I told you a month. One single month, Jonathan. My money isn't here so you must not have it. I've let so many things slide when it came to you. I should have shot you the first day you worked for me."

"I need more time!" Jonathan begged hysterically. "Just give me another month. I swear you will have..."

 _Bang!_ Jonathan's body went over the back of his chair, his blood spraying out behind him as he fell. My ears were still ringing from the gunshot and it sounded like someone screaming. Fletcher had pulled a pistol out of nowhere and fired a single bullet right into Jonathan's head. If this criminal, Fletcher, holding me against him made me sick, the vision of brain matter and blood should have made me pass out. Suddenly, my shoulder was jarred and the pain from it made me realize that I had actually been screaming. "Not a lovely sight, is it darling?" Fletcher cupped my cheek and forced me to look at him. "Shall we go have a cup of coffee?"

I could not speak, the shock of witnessing this murder choking me, so I shook my head. "Such a shame. Maybe you'll change your mind." Fletcher lifted the gun to my head, the cold metal pressed against my temple paralyzing me. This was what I had feared about coming to New York. To think that I would escape the unpleasantness of the city was ridiculous. I was now in the midst of something awful and with no way to escape. "Now, about that cup of coffee?"

"Ye-yes." I stammered.

"Yes, what my dear?" Fletcher cooed, purposely making me say a full sentence.

"Yes, I will go have a cup of coffee with you." I spoke quickly. Fletcher stood and dragged me up from my seat.

"Boys, clean up Johnny for me, will you?" The two men nodded. Dragging me along behind him, we made our way to the door. Fletcher stopped and turned back to his men. "If you need anything, we'll be in the break room, but I'd prefer that we be left alone."

Fletcher dragged me along and to the breakroom a couple doors down from his office. He opened the door and pushed me in, locking the door behind him. Leaning against the only way out of the room, he grinned. "Such a beautiful thing you are, darling. How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." I answered, knowing lying would get me killed.

"So young." Fletcher commented, walking towards me. He stopped in front of me and twirled a lock of my brown hair around his finger. "Jonathan never told me your name."

"Noelle." I choked. Fletcher leaned in and I turned my head away. "Please let me go. I swear I won't tell anyone."

"I should have guessed you would want to leave." Fletcher sighed. "Can we at least have that cup of coffee?"

"Will you let me go if we do?" I said, looking Fletcher in those evil green eyes.

He shook his head and ran a finger down the side of my face. "I can't do that, darling. You know I can't." Fletcher pulled me into his arms, hugging me. It was awkward and I wanted to push him away, but my dislocated shoulder made it nearly impossible to lift my arm. "I'll let you live, though. You can stay with me and I'll take great care of you. Maybe I can be the one Jonathan said was your husband."

"Never in a million years." I snarled.

 *****WARNING*****

"I can change your mind, Noelle. _Persuade_ you." Fletcher lifted me up and carried me over to the counter, setting me on it. He stood between my legs, keeping me from closing them. His hands grabbed my thighs in a gentle manner and I wanted to scream. "Give me a second chance. First impressions are often wrong."

"Not when you murder someone." I argued.

Moving his hands up a little, I felt my skin crawl. "Come now, darling. Ask me for one thing that you've always wanted anything at all. Ask for it and it will be yours as long as you stay with me."

"Didn't you want a cup of coffee?" I asked, hoping to change the topic.

"I did." Fletcher leaned forward, pressing his lips against my neck just below my ear. I put the hand of my uninjured arm in the middle of his chest and tried to push him back. He was stronger and remained close to me, his breath tickling my neck sending shivers of fear down my spine. "I think I'd rather have you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

I was silent, waiting for him to make the next move, whatever it may be. My hand searched the counter top and I grasped for something, anything I could use to defend myself. His hands started to creep their way up my thighs and I feared for what was sure to happen if this progressed. _Finally!_ My hand had found something and I rejoiced. My hand found a place to grab it so that I could lift it and I swung it as hard as I could, hitting Fletcher in the head. He fell sideways and hit the ground, dazed but not unconscious. I leapt off the counter and dashed to the door, hearing Fletcher scramble to catch me. I flung it open and bolted down the hall.

 **(A/n: For those that skipped the part above, Noelle smashed an object into Fletcher's head and is making a dash to escape. He was stunned, but is now after her. Enjoy!)**

My right shoulder hurt like hell, but I kept running. Every twinge of pain pushed me forward. I was not going down without a fight and I hoped I stood a chance at escaping. I did not remember which way we had come from and I prayed I would find a way out. I came to a door that had was labeled 'Warehouse' and knew that there would be a way for trucks to move shipments in and out. Hearing Fletcher's footsteps closing in on me, I opened the door and entered.

It was dark except for the few rows of industrial lights that were still on. I ran, knowing that there was no going back the way I came. I passed rows of crates and hid behind one, panting hard. Hearing a door creak open, I knew that Fletcher had entered the large warehouse. Lowering the sound of me catching my breath, I heard someone whisper.

"Hey." My head snapped in the direction it had come from and I noticed a decent sized cage sitting in front of me. A woman sat inside, grasping at the bars. "Are you alright?"

I shook my head. "He's after me." I wanted to ask if she was okay, but just by the look on her face, I knew she wasn't.

The woman frowned and then turned away from me, whispering. When she turned back, she smiled weakly. "We can help get you out of here."

"We?" Suddenly, the lights came on and I could see what she meant. I was surrounded by cages and crates of people, men, women, and children. Their eyes were on me and as my hard breathing lessened, I could hear the hundreds of breaths they were taking fill the room. This was a ghastly sight, something that would haunt me for the rest of my life. Tears inched their way out of my eyes and down my cheeks. "Oh my god. I have to get you out of here." I reached for the cage, but she shook her head.

"The cages are locked. Only Morrison has the keys." Someone whispered to her and she got a grave look on her face. "You must go. Now. Fletcher has the help of some of his men. We'll guide you."

"I can't just..." I started, but was cut off.

"You are the best chance we have." she said. "We're locked up and you aren't." I shut my mouth and nodded. "Now go."

The people locked in the cages whispered to me, telling me to go one way or another. Sometimes they would tell me to go back the way I came when Fletcher or one of his men were nearby. These people were like a GPS system, trying to navigate my way to freedom. Though, instead of mapping my path on a road, they mapped a path through the maze of the cages filling the room. It didn't take long before I came to a door. I turned around to face the cages closest to me. The people huddled close to the bars, whispering for me to go and wishing me good luck. Tears could not be helped and I knew that after tonight, I would not be crying for a long time.

"Thank you." I whispered and opened the door, making my way to freedom.

 **A/n: I don't know why, but Fletcher is my favorite villain that I have written so far. What do you think of the guy?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: I am on a roll! Hope you are all enjoying yourselves. Let's see if our dear Noelle escapes, shall we? Also a fair warning: prepare for feels you did not know you could feel. That is all.**

 **Chapter Four: Freedom and Fletcher Morrison**

I ran alongside the building, using the shadows to hide myself. My goal was to make it back to the taxi. I was unsure if the keys had been taken out after Jonathan had pulled in front of the building. My escape would be much faster if I could drive off in the taxi and find some help, help for Jonathan, who was murdered, and the people locked up here. Those people that helped me, I would never forget. Human trafficking was a disgusting and inhumane thing to deal in. How could someone tear down a person's humanity in such a way without feeling any remorse? It was beyond my comprehension why anyone would perform such a heinous crime.

Outside the front of the building was empty. The taxi sat there and I knew if I ran out there, I'd either have to get in the taxi or keep running. Fletcher had not thought to send his men to keep an eye outside the building, something I had not anticipated. It was a relief, though, and I dashed out into the open without looking back. This was the final stretch and I could practically taste sweet freedom on my lips. My mind screamed at me to run harder and I pushed myself forward, wanting nothing more than to get the heck out of dodge.

I was nearly to the taxi when I heard the shouts of men behind me. Their footsteps seemed to thunder behind me and I did not want to waste any time. I opened the passenger side door and climbed in, scooting across to the driver's seat. A wave of relief washed over me at the sight of the keys still in the ignition. I started the car, shifted into drive, and slammed on the gas. The car shot forward and I drove off, praying that Fletcher would not have his men follow.

My heart thundered in my chest as I headed for the busiest road in the area. Panic was still fresh in my mind and I kept glancing in the rearview mirror to see if I was being followed. At last, I came to a busy road and waited to turn and merge. If I could disappear in this traffic, there was no way Fletcher's men could easily follow. As I pulled out into traffic, I slowed down and took a deep breath. _Breathe, Noelle. You can breathe now._ The car behind me honked and I pushed on the gas, inching forward only to stop a few moments later. Waiting to get moving again was agonizing. I expected something bad to happen, be it someone shooting at me or crashing into me at a high speed. Even though I had taken deep breaths, the trick did not work and I was on edge.

It took me a good twenty-five minutes to find my way back to a part of the city I was familiar with. Now it was a matter of finding a police station. Why I hadn't memorized where I could find one if I ever needed, I did not know. It would have been extremely helpful if I had. At last, I found one, but would have to circle the block to find a parking spot. As I turned past the 9th Precinct station, a black van followed, unbeknownst to me. When I found a parking spot, it was along the street behind the one the station was on. I would have to walk all the way around to get to it and I hated the idea of walking by myself. The sun had set and I wanted nothing more than the entire street to be lit. If I wanted to get help, I would have to brave the barely lit sidewalk to go to the station.

Shutting of the taxi, I glanced through the window to the back to see if my bag was there. It wasn't. Swearing under my breath, I remembered dropping it when Fletcher had grabbed me outside the building. My cell phone, wallet, a text book, and that barely touched muffin were all inside. If Fletcher was smart, he could use any of those things to track me down. Joes Coffee Stop was known for those raspberry vanilla muffins. My phone and wallet were his best bet at finding me. The text book told him I was a student and it wouldn't be hard to monitor the multiple schools within the city. _Crap! I really goofed._ I felt like an idiot for forgetting about it entirely, but was sure if I had attempted to retrieve it I would have been caught.

I climbed out of the car, bringing the keys with me. After all, this taxi was not mine and the company t belonged to would be wanting it back. Tucking the keys into my jacket pocket, I began my walk to the station. The temperature was starting to drop and the light breeze was only helping it. I moved to wrap my arms around myself, but my dislocated right shoulder screamed in protest. Hissing with the pain the movement brought, I remembered that it was injured. Another thing I would have to get help for. I pressed forward, knowing that I would get help very soon.

The van from earlier had driven past me as I parked and had found another parking spot along the sidewalk I was on. As I passed it, I glanced into the window and felt all the blood drain from my face. Lloyd and Reed, Fletcher's thugs, sat inside talking. Reed, who was in the passenger's seat, looked over and saw me. He was quick to alert Lloyd next to him and they reached for the doors. That is when I broke out into a run. Propelling myself forward, I heard them slam the van's doors but their footsteps didn't follow. They weren't going to follow me? What were they going to... _Bang!_ The last thing I remembered was hitting the hard gritty cold pavement.

…

Fletcher Morrison was a wicked, wicked man. His heart was a block of ice and his head a home to many dark thought. He was a ruthless criminal with no remorse for the dastardly actions he performed. Anyone who crossed his path learned that he was a force to be reckoned with. The ambitions the man had never failed to work in his favor, except for the few times when someone interfered. Even then, the interference only served to delay his devious plans. More often than not, those that got in his way were never seen again. Fletcher was dauntless, independent, and greedy, but what'd you expect from somebody with his terrible past.

He had not always been the cruel and unfeeling man he was today. No, he had been quite the opposite once upon a time. He grew up in a gated community, wanting for nothing. His parents were the head of a publishing company in New York City and gave their son anything he asked for. The boy attended a private school and was as normal as any other in attendance there. He had friends and was quite successful in his studies. His teacher's often spoke about how far they felt he would go in life. How could they have known the disaster that would befall the boy and change his path forever?

His parents lost everything when they put their trust in the wrong employee. Said employee drained the company's accounts and the personal accounts of Fletcher's parents. Not a penny was left behind. The employee escaped the city, leaving everything they owned behind. To this day, authorities haven't found the no good thief that ruined the lives of the small family of three. The investigation of the mass robbery went on for months, but nothing turned up and nothing has since.

In the meantime, Fletcher's family moved in with his mother's parents. They sold everything that they no longer needed from their own house. With little to their name, they couldn't afford to pay for him attend private school. Fletcher was withdrawn from his private school and taken from the friends he made there. Anger and loneliness filled the child when he started at a public school. It was nothing like what he was used to and he despised every aspect of his new school. His peers and teachers had once challenged him, but now there was no challenge to learning. When he asked his parents to return him to his old school, they explained that they couldn't. Fletcher grew bitter towards his parents. They still had their company for the time being and he knew they were making some money. Why they weren't using it to put him back in his school, he did not know.

When the case for them was put aside, his parents did nothing to keep the search going. They let their enormous loss slide of their shoulders and continued to live as if nothing had happened. Their company flourished, yet Fletcher did not see a dime of the money they were making. He blamed his parents for being greedy and demanded that they take him back to the life he loved. The boy, who was now a teen, kept making this same demand until, one day, they did something with the money they had saved. Fletcher was left in the care of his grandparents, while his parents moved away. They had decided to move their company elsewhere and did not want to uproot their son again. To the West Coast they went, not caring to ask what their son wanted.

To spite his family, he ran away. He left the safety of his grandparents' home in the middle of the night, taking what little he had with him. The streets of New York City are known to be dangerous and unforgiving to those on their own. When the good people of the city go to bed, those who are less than reputable come out to play. Fletcher was warned not to go out on his own, but he couldn't care less about the warnings he was given his entire life. Blinded by his anger and feeling of abandonment, he did not care if anything bad happened to him. If he were found, maybe his family would see the fault in their decisions.

Something bad did happen and that is where Fletcher started to become the man he was today. He was walking toward the center of the city when some men grabbed him off the sidewalk. They were strong and did not care for his protests to be let go. Tossed into the back of a moving van parked in an alley, Fletcher banged on the doors they had closed on him. His fists began to hurt and he sank down to his knees, burying his head in his hands as hot tears poured down his cheeks. When a hand was placed on his shoulder, he jumped and looked to see who had done so. It was a little girl in her pajamas, her own face streaked with tears. And behind the girl, there were a handful of other people that had been kidnapped too. The girl introduced herself as Molly and invited Fletcher to sit with the rest of the kidnapped group. He reluctantly accepted and scooted across the floor, Molly following him. She stuck to Fletcher's side until they were separated when their kidnappers moved them from the truck.

Molly screamed and cried, reaching towards the boy she had attached herself to in such little time. The girl flailed in a brutish looking man's arms, hitting her small fists against his back. Fletcher stepped out of the line the kidnappers had put them in and ran at the man holding Molly. He let out an angry cry and started to beat on the man. The man shouted and dropped Molly, the girl hitting her head against the hard concrete. Fletcher was easily restrained by the large man, but it did not keep him from struggling. Molly laid unconscious on the floor, her blood pooling around her head where it had cracked open.

 _"Let me go! Let me go!" Fletcher shouted, watching helplessly as Molly laid there injured. The man behind him chuckled darkly, only angering the 15 year-old even more. All eyes were on the teen fighting hopelessly to break free. No one else dared to step out of line, wearily eyeing the guards with guns at their hips or in their hands. Fletcher did not know why he was so protective towards the child. They had just met, but he cared for as he had for the close friends he had lost. "You bastard! She's going to bleed out! Help her!"_

 _"Let the boy go, Paul." a man, who looked unlike the others standing around the room, said as he walked over. He was not muscled or menacing. In fact, he was actually quite welcoming. There was also an air of importance about him, like he was the mastermind behind this whole operation. Fletcher would come to know that he was the head of this awful scheme. The man restraining Fletcher let him go and Fletcher went straight to Molly. He lifted her into his arms and cradled her head, trying to rouse her from her unconsciousness. A hand suddenly appeared before the teen's vison and he looked up to see the man that had demanded his release. "Come with me. We can take care of your sister elsewhere."_

 _"She's..." Fletcher glanced back down at Molly. He never had a sibling. His parents were content with only one child, though Fletcher had wished for a brother or sister. Perhaps this man would treat her better if he thought Molly and him were siblings. "Okay." Fletcher lifted the young girl, finding that he could lift her easily._

 _The kind man led them out of the warehouse and into a well-furnished office. Before he let Fletcher, set Molly down, he laid out a plastic sheet over the loveseat in his office. Fletcher set her down as gentle as possible and quickly found where her head was split open. When he turned around to find the man, he saw him rummaging through a drawer in his desk. Upon noticing the teen watching him, he smiled. "Take a seat somewhere. I'm just finding my first aid kit. I'll stitch her up, alright?"_

 _"Why are you doing this?" Fletcher asked. "Helping me?"_

 _"I like to keep my assets in as good a condition as possible." He paused and made a sound of success, pulling out a small box from the drawer. Taking the first aid kit with him, he joined Fletcher by the couch. Kneeling down next to Molly, he set to work threading a needle to stitch her up. "This may be a disreputable business, but I am not a monster."_

 _"Business?"_

 _"You didn't understand what was going on in there?" the man asked, honestly surprised._

 _"You kidnapped a bunch of people." Fletcher answered. "Why?"_

 _"I'm a human trafficker, boy. I take people and sell them to anyone that wants some. Doesn't matter to me what they do, as long as I get paid." He had threaded the needle and was now pulling the wound on Molly's head closed. "You must be pretty sheltered if you didn't know what was going on."_

 _Fletcher grunted unhappily. "Sheltered. That's one way of putting it."_

 _"What's your story?" the man asked. Fletcher begrudgingly told his tale, up until the moment he was grabbed by those men. When he finished, the man was cleaning up around Molly's now closed wound. He tossed the bloodied disinfecting cloth into the trash after washing his own hands with it. "That's pretty awful kid. That must mean that she's not your sister then."_

 _"Yes, sir. She just..." Fletcher held her hand, not wanting to let her go. "She liked me for some stupid reason."_

 _"I see. Well, I'll tell ya what." Fletcher looked up at the man in confusion. "Kid, you seem promising. How'd you like to stay with me? You and your friend? I'm sure I can find something the two of you can do around here. You won't be paid much, but who knows." Fletcher thought this over. He did not want to go back to his grandparents' house. They didn't care about him as much as they said they did. This wasn't as far as he wanted to get when running away, but it was unlikely he would be found. "Hell, I'd even consider letting you go if you promised to keep your mouth shut. The downside to that, though, would be you couldn't take the girl with you. She'd probably blab to the first person she found and rat me out. So, what'll it be?"_

Fletcher decided to stay and work for the man, not wanting to part with the child he had grown attached to. The man was the head of the business, as Fletcher had guessed. Morrison Bingley was his name and he was like a friend to Fletcher during the time he worked for him. Molly hated it at the warehouse, wanting nothing more than to return home to her parents. She tried so many times to talk Fletcher into taking her home, yet never succeeded. Fletcher cared for the girl, but knew that Morrison trusted him to obey, so obey he did. His obedience was also what earned him good money, something that he desired. His parents had given him very little since their financial crisis. Fletcher was tired of not having anything, so he decided that he would have as much as he could. More money also meant he could take better care of Molly.

For many years, Fletcher learned the trade that Morrison dealt in. Morrison was growing old and knew that he'd need to leave his business in good hands. He had no one else to train but Fletcher and the boy had showed promise from the first day. It wasn't long before Morrison sent Fletcher out on his own to do business. Now a young man, he was a brilliant and ruthless businessman. He could strike a deal with just about anyone without failure. Morrison's protégé was known to everyone on the streets and was feared by people as much as they feared his tutor.

Molly had too had grown and was now a blossoming young woman. She was about the age Fletcher had been when they found themselves under the care of Morrison. Her raven hair was long and cascaded down her back in waves. The innocent brown eyes of her caught anyone and everyone's attention. Fletcher still protected her as he had done when they first met. She had started to slowly come to despise the young man, knowing he would do nothing to return her to her parents. Molly missed her mom and dad, as well as her older siblings. She prayed ever night that they had not stopped looking for her and would find her. Or that she would escape to them.

One day, when Fletcher was out on an errand for Morrison, she decided she was done. If Fletcher wouldn't help her, she would help herself. She held her own room in the large building and had memorized all the routes that led to an exit. This was her chance to get her freedom back and live a normal life. Molly made it farther than she thought she would, but it wasn't far enough. When Fletcher had returned to find her missing, he gathered the help of Morrison's men and tracked her down. They found her wandering in an alley eight blocks away from the building. She was returned to the building and Morrison asked that she be brought to his office. Fletcher had yet to be alerted of her discovery and was still out looking for her.

When at last someone thought to tell him, he came back and planned to give her a good talking to. He went to her room, but she was not there. Fletcher wondered if she was somewhere else in the building and ended up looking all over for her. The young man decided to see if Morrison had her and went to his office. Morrison greeted him as usual and asked how the errand he sent Fletcher on went. Fletcher answered as quick as possible and then asked Morrison if he knew where Molly was.

 _"Fletch, you are like a son to me." Morrison answered, leaning back in his chair. "Since you came, the business has flourished and I believe it is time for me to move on. I'm getting old and you're no longer in need of a teacher. I've taught you everything I know. I made one last deal and I plan to leave for Europe in the morning." Morrison grinned and laughed to himself. "Fletcher, I want you to take over for me. You're going to be the new head of Morrison Mover's."_

 _"One last deal? You're retiring?" Fletcher repeated to himself. Morrison had skirted his question, but had given him enough information to know what he had done with Molly. Fletcher was upon Morrison in a heartbeat, pummeling the man. "Bastard! You fucking sold her! Who'd you sell her to? Where'd they go?"_

 _"They didn't tell me where they were going, Fletch." Morrison chuckled, blood spilling down his chin from a split lip. Fletcher threw another punch at the man's face. Morrison's head snapped back and he laughed harder. "You didn't care for her that much, did you? All she wanted was to leave and you didn't help her. She wanted out, so I gave her a way out."_

 _"I can't believe you've done this, Morrison." Fletcher seethed, grabbing the neck of Morrison's shirt. He pulled the man up and looked him dead in the eye. "If you don't believe that I cared for her, you are wrong. I can't believe that giving me your position would make it any better. You're a dead man, Morrison."_

 _"You wouldn't." Morrison challenged. "I took you in. You had nowhere else to go."_

 _"I chose to stay because I did not want to go back to a family that didn't care for me. Molly's family is still looking for her. Mine wrote me off for dead." Fletcher's voice shook with every word. He slammed Morrison into the wall and grabbed the pistol from his hip, pressing it against Morrison's temple. "You're not going to Europe, Morrison. You're going to Hell." Fletcher pulled the trigger without remorse, firing a single bullet into Morrison's brain. Returning the pistol to its holster, he took a seat at his new desk and watched the blood drain from Morrison's dying body._

Fletcher took up Morrison's name as his last name, as well as the title 'The Reaper'. Anyone Morrison had been affiliated with felt the wrath of Fletcher. He killed those that heard the name after attempting to get information on where Molly had gone. He was the wealthiest criminal in New York. Nay, the world. The money Morrison was going to take with him to Europe became Fletcher's and he was not going to waste a dime of it. He announced that he had taken Morrison's position and that there was going to be a change of rules. Instead of continuing Morrison's dirty business, he began a search for Molly. Millions of dollars went into the search that went on for three years. Fletcher sent men all over the world in search of his dear friend.

Three years is what it took to find her, but it was not what Fletcher had wished for. One of Fletcher's men had found her in some small country in India. His man returned with Molly in tow and Fletcher was relieved to see his friend. However, he was not relieved to find that she was dying. Molly had contracted a serious illness in India and, with no medical attention, she was on a one way track to death. Fletcher wasted no time in getting her to a hospital and, more importantly, finding her family. He joined her family at the hospital, explaining how they met. Fletcher did not reveal that he had taken part in the business they fell prey to together. Instead, he talked how he had stolen money from the head of the human trafficking ring to track her down.

Molly, exhausted and weak, enjoyed the company of her long lost family while she could. She did not bring up the criminal activity she knew Fletcher was a part of, but spoke of how he had protected her. Fletcher had not known this kindness, but wished he had more of it. When Molly's family left for the night, Fletcher pulled his chair over to her bedside to hold her hand. He started to apologize, only to have her shush him. She forgave him and asked for him to do one last thing for her, as a dying wish. Fletcher laughed, telling her that she wasn't going to die. He had found her and she was getting the treatment she needed. Molly shook her head and asked again, telling Fletcher not to argue. She asked Fletcher to find his own family and go back to a normal life. This angered Fletcher and he became silent, knowing getting upset would only make things worse. He thought it over and was about to tell Molly his decision when she flat lined.

The hospital staff were unable to resuscitate Fletcher's only friend. She died in front of him and he was powerless to stop it. He left immediately after the doctor gave him the news. Fletcher fled back to the warehouse where everything had begun. He had wanted to go back to his family, but to have Molly go with him. That was the only way he would return to his family. With her gone, there was no chance of it happening and so he picked up where he had left off three years ago. He was the head of Morrison Mover's and the wealthiest criminal in the world. That was the only thing that kept the man going. His pain was drowned in money and sin, never letting anyone get as close to him as Molly had been.

Fletcher found himself sitting at his desk after Noelle the barista had escaped, thinking of Molly. They would have been about the same age and, besides the color of their hair, they looked exactly alike. Fletcher drummed his fingers against his desk, knowing he would have to kill her if she had spread the word. He had flipped through Noelle's forgotten belongings. Molly had wanted to be a doctor and he had turned a couple pages of the medical textbook belonging to Noelle, thinking of that. Fletcher did not understand why fate had brought the look-alike into his life. He did not understand why he _craved_ her either. Molly had been too young for him, too innocent. He had never once thought of claiming her as his own, but Noelle was an entirely different story. Fletcher could have any woman he wanted, but he found himself wishing for Noelle as he sat there in his office.

"Uh, boss." Lloyd said, gaining his attention. Fletcher looked up, expecting good news. "We took care of the girl."

"Where is she?" Fletcher demanded to know.

"Dead, sir." Lloyd did not have time to explain before he laid in the same spot Jonathan Burn had been, dead as well.

 **A/n: How were the feels, my dear readers? I did not know I could be so brutal with a tragic backstory until now. I hate it and love it at the same time. Let me know what you thought of Fletcher's backstory. Until next chapter, my lovelies!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: The Decision**

A dull ache in my chest woke me. My eyes fluttered open, finding myself in a hospital room. A drip bag hung above me, regulating the solution entering my veins. Next to it, a heart monitor beeped regularly. Outside the room, nurses and doctors passed by. The hospital was abuzz and I attempted to recall why I was there. The clearing of a throat shook me out of my thoughts. My head turned to the left of the bed, finding a police officer.

The man had greying black hair and naturally dark skin. His chin and upper lip were covered in neatly kept hair. He stood and approached the bed with a friendly, comforting smile. "Finally awake. You took quite a hit." he commented. "How are you feeling?"

"Numb. What happened?" I asked. "I'm sorry I don't remember."

"It is quite normal to forget, Miss." the officer assured. "One of my men found you outside the 9th Precinct station of the NYPD. Your shoulder was dislocated and you had been shot."

Everything came rushing back to me. Jonathan, the warehouse, escaping, and running from Fletcher's men. "Oh my god." I breathed, putting a hand over my mouth. "I... I..."

The officer placed a hand on my uninjured shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Don't push yourself to talk about it. I'll have to get a statement from you eventually, but take your time. Start with telling me your name. Do you remember your name?"

"Noelle. Noelle Robbins." I answered, taking deep breaths.

"Good. My name is Detective Nathaniel Khan." He held out his hand and I shook it. "Now, is there anyone you'd like us to contact to let know what has happened."

"My mother." I thought for a moment, realizing that she was a few states away. She would also want me to come home right away. It wasn't as if she could make me, but she'd worry about me. "Never mind. Um... Joe Fitzgerald, he's my boss." I gave Joe's number to Detective Khan.

"Alright. I'll go call and have him come down here. You're at Bellevue Hospital and in good hands." Detective Nathaniel left the room to call Joe for me. While he was out of the room, one of the hospital staff came to get my information from me. They left and a nurse came in to see how I was doing. She asked if I needed anything or if I wanted a warm blanket. The blanket was an obvious yes, since I was freezing, and I asked if I could get a little something to eat. The nurse said she'd get me some crackers and jello, since the kitchen was closed this time of morning. She promised that the morning nurse would make sure I got some good food in me.

Detective Khan returned as the nurse was leaving, returning to my bedside. "Your boss is going to get up and head over here. In the meantime, I should get your statement. Take your time, alright?" Taking a deep breath, or as deep as my aching chest allowed, I began to relay the events following up to me awakening here. Every so often, Detective Khan interrupted to ask for elaboration on something I said. He told me that accuracy of my story would give them a stronger base for an investigation. I struggled to talk about the people that had helped me get out of the warehouse. It was only by me pausing every few sentences that I got that part out at all. The rest of the story came easier and it was over before I knew it. There were a few after-thought questions that Detective Khan asked me and I answered them as best I could.

"That's a wrap, Miss Robbins. I'll get this down to the station as soon as your boss arrives." Detective Khan tucked his notepad into coat pocket and sat down in the chair he had been in when I woke. "You were very brave, Miss Robbins. Not many would have been able to make it as well as you did."

"Thank you, detective." A yawn punctuated my sentence. I was starting to get sleepy from the medicine the nurse had given me. "Detective Khan, you won't leave those people there, will you?"

"No. We'll get them out, if they haven't been moved already." Detective Khan answered. "If they have been moved, you can bet we'll do our best to find them and find Fletcher Morrison." I yawned again and felt my eyes starting to droop.

"Detective Khan," I started, but was shushed by the man.

"Get some sleep. I will be here until Joe arrives." he assured. The drowsiness took over completely and I allowed my body to drift off to sleep.

I woke again at 7:30. Joe was snoring in the corner of the room. The morning nurse wasn't due to come in until 8:00 and I wasn't in need of anything at the moment. The crackers and jello sat on a tray next to the bed and I decided to eat them for now. When I finished, Joe's own snores woke him and his eyes shot open. Blinking a couple times, he looked over and saw me sitting there. The man was on his feet and by me in an instant. "My god, Noelle. How are you feeling? I got down here as soon as I could last night. You were out cold when I arrived."

"I'm hungry and achy, but that's about it. I feel pretty weak, I guess." I answered. Joe nodded and pulled the chair he had been in over next to me. "Sorry to have you come down here. It's not like my family could get here."

"They're on their way, Noelle." Joe said, catching me off guard. "The hospital contacted them and your brother bought tickets for the next flight here. Should be arriving later today. I'll stick around until then, alright. If you need anything, I won't mind being your go-for."

The corners of my lips curled upwards, but it wasn't quite a smile. "Thanks, Joe."

"No problem, kiddo." he said. "Detective Khan said he'd be in sometime today to talk again. He wanted me to let you know."

"Okay." I turned on the room's T.V. and found a channel playing cartoons. Joe and I enjoyed them together until the morning nurse came in. She did the same as the nurse from the night before, but gave me the menu for breakfast in addition. I settled on eggs, ham, and toast. Joe wasn't a breakfast person, so when the nurse offered to bring him something he declined. When breakfast came, I ate up and nearly ate everything on my plate. For the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, Joe and I enjoyed one another's company and the cheesy shows on T.V.

Around two o'clock, Detective Khan returned. He put on a smile, but I could tell that he did not have anything good to say. Joe excused himself from the room, but not before asking if I wanted anything. I shook my head and Joe said he'd be down in the waiting room. Detective Khan took the chair next to the bed and sighed. "How are you feeling, Miss Robbins?"

"A little better, but not by much." I answered. "So what is the news?"

"Miss Robbins, have you watched the news?" I shook my head. "Last night, someone set the Morrison Movers building on fire. The fire department put it out, but only recovered a few bodies. They believe one may have been Jonathan Burn and the others are still yet to be looked at. We believe that Fletcher Morrison moved all those people before setting fire to it to destroy any evidence."

"No. No, no, no." My chin dropped to my chest. "How? How could he move them that fast?"

"The man is probably prepared to do so at any moment." Detective Khan answered. "We're doing all we can, but there isn't much to go on. All of the precincts are on high alert and I have some of the best people working on this case. If, and when, we catch Fletcher Morrison, we're going to need you to give a testimony. Are you willing to do that?"

"Absolutely. Nothing could keep me from helping to put a man like him behind bars." I seethed.

"Also, I have discussed this with my people and we believe it is a good decision to put you in a witness protection program. Fletcher sent those men after you and when news gets out that you're alive, he'll likely come after you." Detective Khan waited for me to answer, but I could not think of what to say. A minute or so passed and all I could think of was that I would have to leave everything behind. Joe, my family, and even school. That is what going into a witness protection program meant. "Our officers are so busy and there is no guarantee we could have one with you at all times of the day. That is why we believe the witness protection program would be a better solution."

"Where would I go?" I asked.

"I've already contacted one of the best men we have at our disposal. Agent Erik Deveraux is his name. He is flying in and is due to land in a couple hours." Detective Khan answered. "When you decide what you want to do, I will arrange the location and a new identity for you with Agent Deveraux. Until then, do not worry about it. You may discuss with your family when they arrive, but I must ask that you do not give the name of the agent. It is up to you, Miss Robbins. Your safety and comfort is what we at the NYPD wish for."

"Okay." I nodded. Detective Khan gave me his card and said I could contact him at any hour. He had a few more questions for me and left when I had answered them. Joe came back in, grinning ear to ear. "What happened to make you smile so much?"

"Oh nothing. I just got the number of a super cute nurse." I rolled my eyes at the man, thinking that I should have called something like that to be the cause of his glee. "What did you and the good detective talk about? I assume he told you about the warehouse?"

"You knew about the warehouse and didn't care to tell me?" I asked, shocked.

"I did not want to put any more stress on you, so I didn't say anything." Joe explained. "I am sorry if that upsets you."

"It's okay. I guess." I sighed, feeling pretty weak and tired again. "Detective Khan said that I should be put in a witness protection program. When Fletcher finds out I am alive, there is nothing to keep him from coming after me."

"That's understandable." Joe said, more to himself than me. "Where would you be going?"

"I don't know." I answered. "I don't know if I could even bring myself to go. If I do, that means I have to leave everything behind. That includes you, Joe, and my family. No contact with anyone I know for any reason."

"But you'd be safe." Joe said. "You'd be safe because of it, Noelle. We'd manage without you. It'll be hard, but if it means we get to see you when they catch the guy, it's worth it." I didn't respond, but knew that Joe was right. He was right about everything. He understood that I didn't want to talk about it anymore, so he didn't bring it up again. I took a nap and allowed Joe to get some rest as well.

"Noelle." my mother's voice cooed. "Wake up, baby girl." My eyes fluttered open once again, but this time I was met with the lovely sight of my mom above me. She was just as I had remembered her. Her brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore no makeup. The glittering green eyes full of tears looked down at me with nothing but the purest motherly love. "Hey there, sweetheart. Sorry to wake you."

"No, mom." I argued. "It's fine. I should probably eat soon anyways."

"Oh, Noelle." my mom sniffled, grabbing the closest hand to her. "I'm so sorry that you've been through all this by yourself. I knew that going to school here was not a good idea, but you insisted."

"Mom, she's an adult. You couldn't keep her forever." Looking past my mom, I grinned at my brother, Sam. He had a soda in his hand that he probably got from a vending machine down the hall. He walked over to join mom and myself, sipping at his soda. "How you doing, squirt? You want a sip?"

"I'm good, Sam." I answered. "For both your questions."

Sam smiled and plopped down into one of the chairs. "So, what's the news? You got something to tell us and I know it."

Sam was exceptionally great at telling when there was something on my mind. Call it his 'Older Brother' tuition. "Sam, now is not the time..." our mother started to scold, but I interrupted.

"Mom, he's right." She turned back to look on me, curious as to what it was I had to say. "The detective working on my case suggested that I go into a witness protection program."

"Can't you just come home and have one of the local officers tail you?" Mom was always quick to attempt to find an alternative to a situation that was unavoidable. "You know how good the Burkesville Police Force is. They'd make sure you were safe."

"Mom, I don't want to drag you into this." I said. "There would be no one to protect you or Sam if I moved back home. I can't lose you guys."

"But I can't lose you, baby girl." Mom started crying and I sighed, unsure how to comfort her. Sam rose from his chair and wrapped an arm around mom's shoulders. "I can't lose her like we lost dad."

"Mom, you're not going to lose Noelle." Sam told her. "You have me back home now, but imagine if Noelle didn't have us to come back to. She'd be lost without us, mom. It would only be until you have to testify, right sis?" I nodded. "Come on, mom. You know that it will best for her to be in the program, even though you don't want to admit it." Sam let go of her and returned to his seat. Mom was still crying and I knew that I had to say something. Sam had not done anything to comfort her, but it was a good attempt.

"Mama, look at me." I said softly. It took her a few seconds, but she lifted her head and looked at me with her tear-streaked face. "Sam was right: you two are all I have in this world. You've been without me for three years. It would have been another year before I even considered going back to Burkesville. Detective Khan said they were going to work hard to catch this man. I believe he'll find him before a year has passed. I also believe that I'll feel safer without anyone around to become collateral damage."

"Okay." Mom breathed, wiping at her eyes. "Okay, Noelle."

"Mom?"

"Yes, baby girl?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Noelle."

…

"Erik!" Nathaniel exclaimed, seeing his friend walking towards him. It had been years since he had last seen the man, and boy was he a sight for sore eyes. When the agent stopped in front of him, he opened his arms in a welcoming motion. "How was the flight?"

"Nathaniel," Erik drawled, removing his large brimmed hat. He wore sunglasses over his masked face, but Nathaniel could tell his friend was not happy about being in New York again. He had every reason to hate the city and the criminals that walked its streets. "This had better be as good as you made it sound."

"It is, Erik." Nathaniel said, taking some of the bags from Erik's hands. "I just got confirmation from the witness. I'll tell you on the way to the hospital."

 **A/n: Prepare yourself for our beloved Erik next chapter!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Agent Deverauax's Introduction**

"Got any two's?" Sam asked, his eyes peering at me over his hand. He had believed that he was a go-fish master since we were kids. That hadn't changed and he pulled out a deck of cards as soon as I mentioned being bored. So far, we had played three rounds and he had won two of them. I'm sure he was also trying to distract me from my fears. Last night I wasn't under the influence of the pain medicine and my sleep was plagued with nightmares. I woke up often in a cold sweat or in tears. Sam was my light in the dark. He sat up with me until I went back to sleep and I managed to get a few hours of rest. "Hmm..." I browsed my hand and smirked up at my brother. "Go-fish."

"Come on!" he laughed, drawing a card from the deck. "I haven't taken any cards from you yet. Are you cheating?" "Sam, do you have any kings?" I asked, avoiding his question. I wasn't cheating, but I was going to win this game and tie things up. Sam frowned and handed over his king and I took another turn. "Do you have any...?" "Miss Robbins?" I looked to the door to see Detective Khan poking his head into the room. Sam put his hand down and rose from his chair. Our mom was taking a nap on a couch beneath the window and he went to wake her. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, as Detective Khan stepped into the room. "Is now a good time?"

"Of course." I answered. My brother and mom came to stand next to my bed, my mom slipping her hand into mine. "Detective Khan, this is my family. My mother, Andrea, and my brother, Sam."

"I am glad you could make it here to see Noelle. I am the lead detective for the case." Detective Khan said, shaking hands with the two of them. He paused while shaking hands with my mother and smiled at her. "Your daughter was very brave, Mrs. Robbins. She is going to be a vital part to putting the culprit behind bars."

"She's always been resilient." my mom said, catching my gaze. "I take it you will do everything you can to keep her safe?"

"Absolutely. In fact, that is the very reason I am here." Detective Khan asked for my mom and brother to take a seat before he began. Once they were seated, he cleared his throat then began to speak. "If Noelle hasn't told you already, she is going to be put into our best witness protection program. She will be given a new identity and will be taken into hiding with one of the best agents available. It may take months, maybe a year or two, at the most to catch Fletcher Morrison. He is a slippery criminal that we've been looking for now for a while. Noelle will remain under the careful eye of our agent until we catch him and can take him to court. She will have everything she needs provided for during her time in the protection program. It will be much easier and safer this way. Do you have any questions?"

None of us did, so Detective Khan continued. "If you give me just a moment, I need to go and grab the agent we've assigned to you." Detective Khan strode out of the room and I looked between my mom and Sam. Mom was looking emotional, as expected. I was surprised she hadn't broken down again like she had yesterday. Sam was a soldier. He powered through the toughest of situations and little to nothing bothered him. I was still a little out of it, a lingering effect of the pain medicine I had been given. This was scary and I wished I could see how things would turn out. Not knowing was what made me so frightened. After everything was over, at least I would rest easy and be able to see the people I love again. Detective Khan walked in and behind him followed the most peculiar looking man I had ever seen.

When I say peculiar, I don't mean that he had a third arm or something such as that. The man was peculiar because he wore a black mask over his face. It framed his yellow, cat-like eyes and covered everything but his mouth and chin. Those eyes peered down his sharp, angled nose at my family and then, eventually, me. He was tall and appeared to be quite thin, but if one looked close enough you could see the toned body. His hair was as black as his mask and was slicked back, not a hair out of place. I was shocked slightly to think that this was the agent assigned to protect me. I had imagined a man that looked like he had gone to the gym every day since his first year of high school. Nothing could have prepared me for this... odd man. I prayed silently that Detective Khan had not lost his mind by picking this agent.

"Miss Robbins, this is Agent Erik Deveraux." Detective Khan introduced, glancing up at the agent that towered over him. "He will remain here with you until the hospital releases you. After that, the two of you will head immediately to the disclosed location he has selected. I will be in contact with him if anything arises and may even need to speak to you."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Sam asked, rising from his chair. My eyes flashed to him, wondering what he was going to do.

"Sam, sit down." mom said. "Please."

"Mister Robbins, please," Detective Khan said, taking a step forward. "He is the best we have available. Your sister will be in excellent hands."

He didn't listen and approached Agent Deveraux. The major height difference nor the build of the man's body deterred my brother. Getting right up and close to the odd-looking agent, he frowned. "What kind of agent is this? He looks like he stepped right out of the Phantom of the Opera. What are you going to do to protect my sister? Steal her away to an underground..." Sam did not get the chance to finish because Agent Deveraux had grabbed him around the neck.

"Your sister is not safe anywhere, Mister Robbins." Sam did not react except for grabbing at the hand around his neck. Agent Deveraux's eyes were practically glowing with a quiet rage. Sam had crossed a line. He would have been better off keeping his mouth shut. Detective Khan attempted to speak to Agent Deveraux, but his words were ignored. "If you'd like her to be safe, though, I suggest keeping your mouth shut. There are people who know what to look for if given the right description. Complain again about my ability to protect your sister and I promise you that someone will find her."

"Erik!" Detective Khan snapped, gaining the agent's attention. He let go of Sam, who stumbled back and into my mother. She had stood from her chair and was now looking over Sam. "Step out into the hall. Now."

"Don't leave on my account." Sam snapped, pushing our mom's worrying hands away from him. He snatched up his jacket and pushed past Detective Khan and Agent Devearaux. "I'm going back home. Love you, Noelle."

"Sam, come back." our mom said, following him as he left the room. I wanted to call out to him to come back, but stopped short when I noticed the look Agent Deveraux was giving Detective Khan.

"I apologize, Miss Robbins." Detective Khan said awkwardly, clearing his throat. "I hope that Agent Deveraux hasn't caused you any stress by his actions."

"Not at all." I lied. "Sam has always been a bit of a hot-head. He had no right to act as he did."

"If you want another agent assigned, I could..."

"No, no, no." I interrupted, noting how Agent Deveraux's eyes widened at my protest. "It is fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure." I felt bad for how Sam acted, but I could not believe how the agent had reacted. That was far from the reaction I had expected. It was a bit frightening, but I could tell that he knew what he was doing. If this was what he was like all the time, I knew that I would be safer for it.

"Alright then." Detective Khan looked at his watch and frowned. "I would stay, but I have a meeting to get to. Agent Deveraux will remain here with you."

"Thank you, Detective Khan." I said.

"You're welcome." He turned to Agent Deveraux and shook his hand. "Good luck. I will leave you two to get acquainted." With that said, he left the room and I was alone with this mystery of a man.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth to ask him a question, but was interrupted. "I am not one to answer a lot of questions, Miss Robbins." He took a seat in the corner of the room, resting one of his legs over the other. "You may ask five questions, but not at the moment. You need to rest."

"But..."

"Rest." I huffed in annoyance. Who was he to tell me what to do? Of course, I knew I needed rest, but I wanted to figure him out. What was with the mask? Where is he from? How did he start working in the witness protection program? He did not let me get a word in and I was furious for that. Our eyes met and I glared at him. His gaze battled with mine, neither of us looking away. "I know what you are thinking, Miss Robbins. No one has ever figured me out and you will be no different. Now rest or I will go sit in the hall so that you can do so without distraction."

"Fine." I mumbled, pulling the blanket over my arms. As I closed my eyes, I wondered if this was really the best decision. How long would I be able to put up with Agent Devearaux if he was like this all the time? Not long, let me tell you that. Nevertheless, he was the best candidate to keep me safe until Fletcher Morrison was caught. That was the deciding factor and I knew all would be fine as I drifted off to sleep.

 **A/n: What do you think of Erik, my dear readers? I hope to hear from you! Ta for now!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/n: Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. Things have been a bit crazy, but I prevailed. Have a chapter, dearest readers!**

 **Chapter 7: Nightmares and the Nefarious Plan**

 _My eyes opened to find myself standing in the warehouse. The cages were still there, but had so many people inside them that it couldn't possibly be comfortable. Sounds of discomfort, pain, and fear filled the air, sending shivers down my spine. A cage nearby held a little girl crying, her hands gripping at the bars of the cage. She noticed me and called out. "Please let us out. I want to leave. I want my mommy and daddy."_

 _There appeared to be no one else in the room but me and I knew that this was my chance. I rushed over to the cage and kneeled down in front of the girl. "It's okay. Stop crying. I'm going to get you out of there." I said, trying to comfort the girl. Looking at the cage's door, I sighed in frustration. There was an inumerable amount of locks. Tugging on the bars, I tried to move them but they wouldn't budge. Dropping my hands to my side, I looked at the girl with a defeated look on my face. "I... I can't. I don't have the keys and the bars are too strong._

 _"But you do have the keys!" the girl wailed. "They're right there!"_

 _Looking into my hands, I was shocked to see the keys the child spoke about. It was a huge key ring with so many different keys with no labels. Before I could even say anything, I began to test every key out on every lock. It would take me forever to find the matching key to each lock and free all of these people, but I couldn't just let them stay here. Not when I had the chance to return their freedom. "I'll have you out soon." I promised the little girl as I worked. "You'll get to see your mom and dad. What's your name?"_

" _My name is…" The girl stopped abruptly and started to scream. Her sudden change to high-pitched shrieking caught me off guard and I dropped the keys. They hit the floor and disappeared from sight. In a panic, I went to my knees and searched for them tirelessly. Thinking they might have slid behind me after I had dropped them, I turned around. There is where I found a pair of shoes with someone in them. My eyes slowly drifted up to identify who it was, but deep inside I knew who it was. Fletcher grinned down at me, the keys I had just lost in one of his hands. His short blonde hair was slicked back, giving his already sinister look the final touch._

" _Thought you could come back and take my profits, Noelle?" he questioned with a smirk. Crawling backwards away from the man, I pressed my back up against the cage. The girl had stopped screaming and was sobbing uncontrollably. "You were trying to be a hero, my dear. In my stories, heroes don't win. Good is bad and bad is good. Look what you've caused my dear."_

 _My head whipped around to the cage at the sudden silence that fell over the cage behind me. I gaped in horror at the sight. The girl and all of the people she shared the cage with were dead, drenched in their own blood. Whatever didn't these victims' clothes absorb had leaked out onto the concrete floor, soaking into my pants and covering my exposed skin. "Oh God..." I choked. Scrambling to my feet, I tried to wipe the blood off my hands but it only seemed to make them bloodier. Morrison laughed a cruel and malicious laugh while watching me panic, the sound echoing around the warehouse. "Why won't it come off?!"_

" _You've got blood on your hands, my sweet barista." Morrison cooed, turning me to face him. I looked up into his eyes and wanted nothing more than to knock the mock look of sympathy off his face. Raising a red-stained hand to strike, he caught it with ease. "No, no, no." He took my hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of it. His piercing blue eyes sent shivers of fear throughout my body as they met my own green ones. With a smirk, he said, "You need to wake up, Noelle."_

" _I can't." I whimpered, trying to pull my hand from his. "Let me go."_

" _Wake up and realize that this is… real." Morrison grasped me by the shoulders and drew me to him. The closeness was overwhelming and I found I couldn't move an inch. The warehouse seemed to fade in and out around us as he leaned down to whisper in my ear. "You need to fight this…" Morrison disappeared for a split second and reappeared. "But you can't. You will come to me." The man flickered out of existence again and then right back. "Come back, Noelle."_

" _What?!" I shouted, trying to be heard over an obnoxious high-pitched beeping that had flooded my head. It was loud and my ears started to hurt. "Please, just let me go!"_

" _I can't…" Fletcher's voice cut out for a moment, only to return a second later. "You are mine." Fletcher turned his head and captured my lips with his, causing me to scream against them._

That is when I woke up in a cold sweat. In a panic, I could not tell where I was. Every sound in the room seemed a thousand times louder. The loud beeping was still present and it didn't subside. Tears streamed down my face and I sat up, despite the pain that rippled through my body. A sudden pressure on my uninjured shoulder pushed me back down and I let out a fearful cry. "Let me go. Please. Let them go." I sobbed, shutting my eyes tightly. The pressure decreased, but I could still feel something holding me down. "Please. Please. Please."

"Miss Robbins, take deep breaths." _Who is that?_ _Their voice is so… soothing._ Never in my life had I heard such a comforting and hypnotizing voice before. The voice kept speaking quietly, but I didn't focus on its words. I was taken by the power in such a beautiful sounding voice. It was like the silky richness of chocolate tiramisu rolling over your tongue, but in your ears. I was sure that the voice could calm a raging bull if it tried hard enough. I moved to sit up, but pain shot through me and I was pressed downwards once again. The panic returned and the beeping grew louder. "Miss Robbins, please don't sit up. You need to take deep breaths and calm yourself. _**Breathe**_."

My eyes still shut tight, I did as the voice asked and took a deep breath. _Breathe._ The word was like second nature and I took a second deep breath, then a third, and kept doing so. The beeping faded away and my sobs slowly went away with it. Minutes that felt like hours passed as I calmed myself. The light pressure disappeared when I was finally feeling the effects the nightmare had on me had gone. When I stopped taking deep breaths, I knew I needed to open my eyes. Opening them, I found myself back in my hospital room all alone. Whose voice was that? Who had talked me down from my nightmare? A shadowed figure appeared in the doorway, but I did not have time to see who it was before my eyes closed of their own will. I had drifted back into sleep, but into a peaceful and dreamless one.

The next morning, the sound of someone walking into the room and the scent of coffee woke me. Eyes fluttering open lazily, I stretched and felt achy all over. I would be sure to ask for some ibuprofen or something when the first nurse came in. The scent of coffee brought me back and I smiled. "Bring me some, mom?" I asked, looking up to see…

"Good morning, Miss Robbins. Your mom has not arrived yet today." Agent Deveraux said before taking a sip from the only cup of coffee in sight. Mortified that I had mistaken the man for my mother, my face flushed in embarrassment and I looked away from him. Judging by his reaction, he wasn't fazed at all by my stupidity. He had taken a seat in a corner of the room, sipping at his coffee quietly, his eyes scanning the room. The more I thought about it, I realized my mother didn't drink her coffee straight black. She always added creamer or sugar to sweeten it to her liking. I could tell what Agent Deveraux was drinking from the strength of the coffee's scent. "How are you feeling this morning? You did not sleep well until the nurse gave you those sedatives."

"I'm feeling…" I had started to talk as soon as Agent Deveraux had asked his question, nearly missing what he said next. "Sedatives?"

"You don't remember?" Agent Deveraux asked, shocked look on the exposed side of his face. "You had a night terror. It rocketed your heart rate to well above a safe level, not to mention the state of mind you were in. It took three nurses plus myself to keep you down and get you calm enough to give you the sedative."

"I don't…" That is when it all came flooding back. The cages, the girl, and Morrison. My throat tightened, but I knew getting worked up would not help. My breaths were shaky, but I kept myself from panicking again. Then I recalled the voice and I wanted to ask Agent Deveraux about it. Before I could, my mother came strolling into the room the moment I opened my mouth to do so. I would get a chance to ask him eventually. Worrying my mother more with the news I was just given was not the way to start the morning, so I put it aside for the moment. "Mom, where's Sam?"

"Honey." She dragged a chair over to sit next to me, ignoring Agent Deveraux in the corner of the room. "He's still pretty upset over…" She glanced over her shoulder to the corner where Agent Deveraux was watching the door. "Yesterday. While he didn't go home, he's back at our hotel. I'm sure he will come back here, at least to see you off when you're released."

"Oh yeah." I said, remembering his outburst. "So…" My voice trailed off, bringing a silent awkwardness over the room. There really wasn't much else I could say without possibly offending Agent Deveraux, so I changed the topic. "How have things been going for you back home? I never bothered to ask."

"Nothing new." she answered, not meeting my eyes. "Missing and worrying about you every single day. I still can't believe you made this decision."

"Mom…" I started, glancing over to Agent Deveraux. It was so strange having him sit there in silence. Especially with my mom about to delve into her usual talk about dad.

"I know, Noelle." Lifting her gaze, she smiled softly. "There was no stopping you. You have always been stubborn like your dad."

"I think I got it from the both of you, personally." My mom laughed a little and patted my hand that was resting on top of the sheets.

"Also have your father's sense of humor." She leaned back in the chair and sighed. "It has been better, if I'm being honest, since Sam came back home. Our little home felt so empty after you left. I couldn't bear to try to fill the space up. Then Sam said he was coming home and I was never happier to fill the space. He came home. I hope you come home too, Noelle."

I was unsure about what my future held for me, so that was all I could hope for as well. "Me too, mom." Squeezing her hand, I looked away from her to keep her from seeing the look of worry in my own eyes. My stomach growled and I remembered I had yet to eat breakfast. _I guess I could hope for some food about now, too._

Fifteen minutes later, one of the kitchen staff brought in a simple breakfast. Scrambled eggs, 2 pieces of bacon, and two slices of wheat toast were eaten in a record time. Not to mention the lovely cup of coffee my mother had gone down the hall to get for me. The rest of the morning was spent watching whatever silly shows were on the television. It wasn't until close to lunch time that the doctor who had seen to me when I was admitted came in. He checked over my injuries and typed everything up on the filing computer in the room. "Well, everything seems to be doing good. Your shoulder healed up nicely and there is no sign of infection in your gunshot wound. I believe we will be able to release you some time this afternoon. How does that sound?"

"That sounds..." I stopped short, realizing what my release from the hospital would mean. It would mean I would be leaving New York, probably. I would be leaving with Agent Deveraux, who I still hadn't had time to talk to. My mom was quicker than I to realize this was and I could see she was holding back her tears. "That sounds great, Dr. Malcom. Thank you."

"You're welcome." he said, holding his hand out for me to shake. I shook it and then let my hand drop back down to rest at my side. "Someone from the billing office will be in here shortly and then you can go. Have a good day."

The doctor left and I looked to my mom, unsure what to say. She was on her phone, likely to call Sam and give him the news. I had not thought I would be here forever, but I also had not expected to be released so soon either. Mom stepped out of the room once Sam had picked up and I sighed. She had already been fretting over when I would leave. The unknown was something that she despised and this was surely driving her crazy. I only hoped that when the time came for me to go, she would understand that it was for everyone's safety. For mine, for my family's, and for the eventual safety of the people being trafficked.

When she returned to the room, she had on a smile that was anything but real. I didn't say anything and let her walk over to stand next to me. "Sam needs to be picked up. I'm going to go back to the hotel to get him. Do you need me to stop by your apartment and pick up a change of clothes for you?"

"Sure." I said. She cupped my cheek and leaned down to kiss my forehead. "I love you, mom."

"Love you too, sweetheart." She smiled meekly and then left to go get my brother.

 **…**

 _ **At the Admission's Office of NYU…**_

Pushing past throngs of students, I made my way up the steps and into the admission center. I opened the door and walked up to the young woman at the front desk. She looked up at me from a textbook and smiled. "What can I do for you?" she asked.

"I was talking with a girl in the library." The girl gave me an odd look, but I pressed forward. Holding up the textbook, I set it on the counter. "She was so distracted that she forgot this and I believe she had an important test coming up. I'd like to return it to her. Could you maybe, say, tell me where she is staying?"

"I can't. I'm not supposed to give out other students' information." the girl said. I hung my head between my shoulders and took the textbook of the counter. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I lied, pretending to be pretty down. "I'll find her somehow. I hope."

"I hope you..." the girl paused, her fingers drumming against the desk in thought. She stopped and sighed audibly. "I guess I could let it slide this once."

"Really?!" My head shot up and I put on the most convincing hopeful look I could muster. "You would do that for me?"

"Yes." She nodded. Waking up the computer in front of her, she typed in a password and then looked back to me. "What did the girl say her name was?"

"Noelle." I answered. "Noelle Robbins." I watched the student type in the information I gave her and waited patiently.

"Robbins, Noelle." the girl said a few seconds later. Turning the computer screen, she showed me a picture I was all too happy to see. "Is this her?"

" _Bingo._ " I smirked, but quickly shook it away. There was no way I could mistake her for anyone else. Those wavy brown locks and lovely green eyes haunted my every dream. When there had been no news of a girl winding up dead near the Ninth Precinct of the NYPD, which is when I knew she was out there somewhere. I took her name off her student ID that was in the wallet she had forgotten that day. It also told me that she attended NYU and I created this clever plan with the hope that she might stumble back into my hands. "That's her alright."

The student turned the screen back and wrote down the address for me on a piece of paper. She handed it to me and gave me a stern look. "Now, don't expect me to do this again. Understood?"

"Got it." I tucked the address into my pocket and smiled at the student. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. Have a nice day." She returned to her textbook so I took my leave.

Once outside, I jogged back to the van where Reed was waiting. Hopping in the passenger side, I shut the door and quickly searched up the address on my phone. "Head to Washington Square Apartments, Reed. We have some belongings to return." _A nice day indeed._


End file.
